For a week after Lady Ogram’s return, Dr. Baldwin called daily at Rivenoak.  His patient, he said, was suffering from over-exertion; had she listened to his advice, she would never have gone to London; the marvel was that such an imprudence had had no worse results.  Lady Ogram herself of course refused to take this view of the matter; she was perfectly well, only a little tired, and, as the hot nights interfered with her sleep just now, she rested during the greater part of the day, seeing Lashmar for half an hour each afternoon in the little drawing-room upstairs.  Her friendliness with Dyce had much increased; when be entered the room, she greeted him almost affectionately, and their talk was always of his brilliant future.

“I want to see you safely in Parliament,” she said one day.  “I can’t expect to live till you’ve made your name; that isn’t done so quickly.  But I shall see you squash Robb, and that’s something.”

Of his success at Hollingford she seemed never to entertain a doubt, and Lashmar, though by no means so sanguine, said nothing to discourage her.  His eye noted ominous changes in her aspect, and her way of talking, even the sound of her voice, made plain to him that she was very rapidly losing the reserve of force which kept her alive.  Constance, who was on friendly terms with the doctor, learnt enough of the true state of things to make her significantly grave after each visit; she and Dyce, naturally, exchanged no remark on the subject.

“What do your parents say?” Lady Ogram asked of Lashmar, during one of their conversations.

“They are delighted.  Especially my mother, who has always been very ambitious for me.”

“But I mean about your engagement.”

Dyce had of course omitted all mention of Constance in his letters to Alverholme.

“They give their approval,” he replied, “because they have confidence in my judgment.  I fancy,” he added with a modest smile, “that their ambition, in this respect, is not altogether satisfied, but—­I have said nothing whatever to them about the peculiarity of Constance’s position; I didn’t feel justified in doing so.”

“You may tell them everything,” said Lady Ogram, graciously.

She one day received a letter from Mrs. Toplady, which gave her great satisfaction.  It seemed to re-establish her vigour of mind and body; she came downstairs, lunched with her young friends, and talked of going to Wales.

“May is enjoying herself greatly; she must stay a little longer.  The day before yesterday she was at a garden party at Lady Honeybourne’s, where they acted ‘As You Like It’ in the open air.”

“There was mention of it yesterday in the papers,” remarked Lashmar.

“Yes, yes; I saw.  And May’s name among the guests—­of course, of course.  I notice that Lord Dymchurch was there too.”

She ended with a quavering laugh, unexpected and rather uncanny.

“And the much-discussed Mr. Langtoft,” put in Constance, after a keen look at the mirthful hippocratic face.